Willie's Redneck Time Machine (9 page)

SO YOUR WIFE
and your son are out there on the dance floor, but only one of them knows the truth.

Looks like Korie thinks John Luke is me . . . otherwise she’s got eyes for someone else, and that’s not good. I should stop this now.
You decide to break up the weird situation by asking them if you can take their picture.

“Dad,” John Luke calls out.

Thankfully Korie doesn’t hear it, as she’s distracted by a friend who just came over.

“Where’d you get the tux?” you ask him.

“I rented it this afternoon. Thought it’d be fun to go to an old prom.
Until now.
”

John Luke mouths the last two words, acting as if he’s trapped with Korie, who joins your conversation.

“What is that?” she asks, pointing to your phone.

“Oh, just a new camera. Okay, you two, pose.”

John Luke puts an arm around his future mother, and you take a few pictures.

“Thanks. Oh, uh, I’m going to need to borrow him for a minute,” you tell Korie.

“What’s going on?” she asks, looking at John Luke but clearly thinking he’s you
 
—er, 1990 you.

High school Willie, of course, is probably somewhere looking for his date. Things will surely get weird if the past you sees the future you along with your son, who
looks
like you did back in 1990.

This is confusing me. I need something to eat to sort things out.

Maybe seeing your past self will violate some kind of space-time continuum thing. You don’t know. You may be an expert on duck calls and running Duck Commander, but definitely not on time travel.

“He’ll be
right
back,” you tell Korie.

You look at her and can’t believe how cute she is. You also can’t believe how puffy her sleeves happen to be.

What was fashion thinking with those things?

As you walk away with John Luke, he begins to explain what happened.

“I got into that
 
—that machine
 
—and the door closed, and all of a sudden I’m going back in time.”

“So then why didn’t it disappear in my warehouse?” you ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not a real machine
 
—like a vehicle or something
 
—but more like a doorway.”

You stop for a minute. “John Luke
 
—you went
back
in time and got smarter.”

He’s about to respond when, blocking your path to the exit from the gym, there stands the high school version of you.

Looking all tough in his tuxedo and black tie, he glares at John Luke as if he wants to fight. The good thing is that you know yourself, and you know you’d never hit someone unless they really deserved it. The bad thing is he looks like he might sock John Luke in the nose.

“Okay, hold on now,” you begin.

Do you say something meaningful to your younger self?
Go here
.

Do you grab John Luke and sprint to the time machine?
Go here
.

YOU CAN SEE THEM
in the crowd from where you stand by a set of tables. It’s Korie trying to move closer to her dance partner. But her dance partner happens to be John Luke, who looks like he might pass out in that tux he’s wearing.

You have to blink to make sure it’s him. He looks so much like you did back in 1990.

Poor kid,
you think.

His mother has no idea who she’s dancing with.

You weren’t planning to get a photo of them, but this opportunity is too good to pass up. So, hoping that Korie will assume you’re some sort of hired photographer and that John Luke won’t make a scene, you get them to pose side by side and snap a picture. John Luke sends you a you’ll-pay-for-this look over Korie’s shoulder as they resume their dance.

You move away and watch for a few moments until someone else comes out on the dance floor.

It’s you. Well, not you now, but you back in 1990.

I was a handsome guy.

You’re feeling pretty good until you see your younger self come and say a few things to the dancing couple, then take a swing at John Luke.

Now you decide to get out there on the dance floor. Fast. Before any blood is spilled.

You’re the first adult to get to the two guys. John Luke is covering his face to shield it from the punches.

“Hold on there, son,” you say.

You’re calling yourself “son.” Time travel irony.

“Who are you, pops?”

“Easy, killer,” you say. “We’re just leaving.”

“This guy is trying to steal my girl.”

“Nobody’s stealing anything, right, John Luke?”

You glance at Korie, who looks perplexed. You wonder if this is messing up the space-time continuum thing.

I gotta learn more about this time travel stuff.

“Come on,” you tell your son. Then you look to Korie and say, “Sorry to confuse you.”

“Hey, man, ZZ Top went out of style,” high school Willie tells you.

“ZZ Top never goes out of style,” you say as you leave.

Then you realize there’s one more thing you could do while you’re here.

Do you decide to try leaving something in your locker before you leave?
Go here
.

Do you just get into the time machine to go back home?
Go here
.

IT’S A STRANGE THING,
walking around with a chainsaw in a place you don’t know. The few people you pass on the road end up running away in terror upon seeing the power tool. You call out, telling them that no, really, you’re not the Texas chainsaw killer or any sort of killer whatsoever. But none of them listen to you.

It starts to rain, which only makes things worse. Now you look like a sopping mess
and
you happen to be wielding a very deadly piece of equipment.

You reach a small village and realize this has got to be a really long time ago. The place is primitive, scattered, with only a few faces showing themselves and quickly disappearing back into their huts after they do.

Why have you come to this particular time and place?

Or maybe you should ask the more important question: Why did Phil come here? He has to be close by, right?

It rains through the night, and you end up going into the nearby woods for shelter. When morning comes, the cold rain seems to double down on you.

You need to find some more effective shelter.

Or maybe you should just get rid of the chainsaw.

You return to the village and knock on a door
 
—actually not so much a door as some branches covering an opening
 
—and the woman behind it shouts gibberish at you. For a moment you wonder if you’re unable to understand this language, but it’s not that. This woman is just freaked out and talking fast.

“Please go somewhere else,” you finally hear her say.

So you do.

You keep trying this, door-to-door.

You feel yourself shivering and wonder why the man in the cloak back there didn’t offer you a rain poncho or maybe some flint to start a fire.

Rain starts hitting you sideways. You knock at yet another hut, and this time the makeshift door opens. A big man steps out.

It’s not just a big man. This is a giant.

His eyes glare at the chainsaw in your hands.

“This is just for cutting down
 
—”

You’re on the ground and don’t even realize he took a swing at you until the right side of your face goes numb.

This can’t be good.

You try to stand, but he picks up the chainsaw.

Oh, man.

This really can’t be good.

As he studies it, though, you realize he has no earthly idea what he’s holding.

You start to run toward the woods you spent the night in. This will be where you will spend the rest of your life, watching the flood come
 
—the flood you learned so much about back in your Sunday school days.

It won’t be much of a life after all.

Thankfully, time is on your side. Actually, time travel is, and you end up back in your warehouse with Britney Spears singing, “Oops! . . . I Did It Again.” This may have happened before, you realize. It’s like déjà vu.

Again.

THE END

Start over.

Read “The Morning Fog: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”